#Americans #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Some sings of the lily, and daisy,… And the pansies and pinks that the… throws In the green grassy lap of the med… Blinkin’ up at the skyes through t…
I grow so weary, someway, of all t… That love and loving have vouchsaf… Since now all dreamed-of sweets of… Am I possessed of: The caress tha… The lips that mix with mine with m…
He leant against a lamp-post, lost In some mysterious reverie: His head was bowed; his arms were… He yawned, and glanced evasively: Uncrossed his arms, and slowly put
Who shall sing a simple ditty abou… Dainty-fine and delicate as any be… That dandles high the dainty bird… Tremulously tender song of greetin… Bravest, too, of all the trees!—no…
The touches of her hands are like… Of velvet snowflakes; like the tou… The peach just brushes 'gainst the… The flossy fondlings of the thistl… Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of…
How many of my selves are dead? The ghosts of many haunt me: Lo, The baby in the tiny bed With rockers on, is blanketed And sleeping in the long ago;
Lying listless in the mosses Underneath a tree that tosses Flakes of sunshine, and embosses Its green shadow with the snow— Drowsy-eyed, I sink in slumber
O the days gone by! O the days go… The apples in the orchard, and the… The chirrup of the robin, and the… As he piped across the meadows swe… When the bloom was on the clover,…
To all the little children:—The h… The sober and the silent ones; the… The good ones—Yes, the good ones,… Little Orphant Annie’s come to ou… An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up,…
O her eyes are amber-fine— Dark and deep as wells of wine, While her smile is like the noon Splendor of a day of June. If she sorrow—lo! her face
Get gone, thou most uncomfortable… Thou really dost annoy me with thy… Impalpable transparency of grin; And the vague, shadowy shape of th… Hath vext me beyond boundary and c…
As one in sorrow looks upon The dead face of a loyal friend, By the dim light of New Year’s da… I saw the Old Year end. Upon the pallid features lay
What delightful hosts are they— Life and Love! Lingeringly I turn away, This late hour, yet glad enough They have not withheld from me
A fantasy that came to me As wild and wantonly designed As ever any dream might be Unraveled from a madman’s mind,— A tangle-work of tissue, wrought
Low hidden in among the forest tre… An artist’s tilted easel, ankle-de… In tousled ferns and mosses, and i… A fluffy water-spaniel, half aslee… Beside a sketch-book and a fallen…
